Out of Ruins
by Delorita
Summary: What happens after the war to Peter, Thomas and his friends. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Only ONE slash story at for Swing Kids? That just had to be changed. Peter and Thomas, they just ROCK...or better SWING ;) This may be a bit sappy in the end, but I just couldn't help it.

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"You know what I'd love to do right now?" Peter asked, snuggling closer into Thomas' tight embrace.

"Dance?" Thomas' lips moved gently against the other young man's hair.

"Yes." Peter sighed, kissing Thomas' bare chest, trying to ignore the scars of bullet wounds he saw there.

"Me too." Thomas' answer was so low, he barely couldn't hear it himself. A tear run down his cheek and he made Peter look at him, murmuring, "I'm so sorry."

Peter looked up, pressed himself even more against his lover and murmured, "Don't be." He kissed Thomas' beautiful mouth hesitantly. "They got you; it was their fault, not yours." He bent down again for another chaste kiss. "It's such a miracle you survived and I found you again."

Thomas merely nodded. The knot in his throat was way too tight. He wanted to apologize for everything he had done to his friends before the damn war broke out, especially all those harsh words towards Arvid. He hadn't allowed himself to grieve for their guitarist back then, but he did it very deeply now.

Everything they lived for was destroyed. Six years of their young lives wasted. Peter's in an inhuman, exhausting working camp, Thomas' in barbarous battles. They'd both seen and experienced beyond horrible things.

But like a miracle, they'd found each other again. They'd both come back to Hamburg, to their roots, and met by accident in the ruins of their favourite dance club, "Café Trichter".

Was that fate?

As soon as they had recognized each other, they hugged fiercely and they realized, they just couldn't let go.

"I will never ever let you out of my sight again." Thomas had breathed harshly against Peter's neck. And Peter had just turned his head, and without thinking, captured Thomas' mouth in a desperate, bruising kiss.

Thomas' fingers had tightened in Peter's worn overcoat and he held on for dear life, not caring that it was inappropriate what they did in plain sight. No one did care these days. All that mattered was being still alive.

They'd stumbled towards Peter's old flat, half carrying each other. There were ruins all around them, the roof of Peter's house was broken in but they still lived there, having nowhere else to go.

Thomas was glad to see that Peter's mother and brother were alive, and his stuttered greeting was an "I'm so sorry," as well.

Now they lay in each others arms for the third night in a row. Not wanting to go out by day, but having to do so to find some food.

"We'll dance again." Peter said very determined out of the blue, grabbing Thomas' half hard erection, stroking furiously.

Thomas gasped and arched into his lover's hand, concentrating on the wonderful sensation and trying to shove the terrifying memories towards the back of his mind. He felt Peter's tongue invade his mouth, caressing his very gently. An all consuming fire erupted inside of him, when Peter's fingers played with Thomas' hard shaft and his balls, rolling them. That was just too much. An insanely glorious shudder shot through Thomas' body and he came, groaning loudly.

Peter chuckled beside him, foundling himself. Thomas didn't have the courage so far to touch his friend, but he enjoyed watching him very much.

Today he couldn't tear his gaze away from Peter's moving fist. His subconscious told him, that there must have been something there between them six years ago; they just didn't dare acting on it or admitting it to each other.

Dancing together had been as far as they could go.

Suddenly, Thomas remembered very clearly the emotions he had while dancing. The reason why he loved Swing so much. The reason why he was able to withstand the HJ for so long.

It was rhythm, feelings, joy of life.

He sighed, locking gazes with Peter, who stared at him, his hand moving very slowly, as though he was waiting for something.

Thomas drew his fingers through his own come on his stomach and then, boldly, put it on Peter's cock head, smearing his fluid around, mingling it with Peter's pre-come.

The unexpected action caused Peter to spasm violently, closing his eyes, sighing dreamily, "Oh, Thomas…yeah…"

Thomas leaned over and kissed Peter through his orgasm. Gently, just with the right amount of pressure, their fists pumping in unison.

"We'll dance again." Thomas pulled the thin bed cover over them, not caring for the mess they'd just made. He suddenly felt utterly hopeful, facing Peter in the moonlit room, caressing a strand of already grown back hair and moving it from the other's eyes.

"Yeah, and together." Peter mirrored the action, loving the silky feel of Thomas' longish locks, smiling at the fact that he too had started to grow his hair again.

It was like a promise. A promise for a future together.

A few weeks back, Peter was near the verge of complete breakdown from exhaustion through endless work and torture. There was no glimpse anywhere of a future. Only the end of the world.

In May everything changed.

When he looked at Thomas, who glanced back at him through half closed lashes, smiling happily, their hands entwined, he felt a very warm glow grow in his chest.

Hope.

And love.

"I love you." He just had to say it out loud, sounding slightly out of breath.

Thomas squeezed his hand, his glance not sleepy at all anymore, "I love you too," and after some seconds he added, "Always have."

F I N


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Again, warning about sappynessssss…Guess it depends on how touchy, feely you are. Also again thanks to my dear Rustie for reading this carefully and giving me encouraging FB and helping me with the english grammar!

oOoOoOoOoO

Peter traced the scars on Thomas' bare chest with his index finger again. He'd done it so often during the past weeks; he knew them in his sleep. He never dared to ask Thomas about them though. Right now he was sure Thomas was sleeping, his soft breath and rising and falling chest indicating it. So Peter asked more to himself, "How'd you survive that?"

"I thought of you." The very low answer came instantly.

Peter was a bit startled by it and looked up, meeting Thomas' amber eyes with a surprised glance. He felt Thomas' caressing hand in his hair, on his shoulder, his neck.

"I'm not sure if it was thinking or dreaming," Thomas pulled Peter's head down for a leisurely kiss. Then continued, "It was right after I had to go to the front line," he swallowed. "They didn't tell us that the enemy was as well trained as we were, that they had equally modern tanks and grenades." Thomas had to close his eyes, his voice getting very unsteady.

"You don't have to tell me," Peter whispered, flopping on his back and pulling the equally tall man against his shoulder. Thomas nestled against his lover, curling his arm tightly around Peter's stomach and murmured, "But I have to." He threw his leg over Peter's to have as much body contact as possible.

Peter had to strain his ears to hear what Thomas was saying next.

"Emil and I were on a recon mission…" Thomas hesitated, his hand absentmindedly drawing circles around Peter's navel, "And then we were ambushed." His hand stilled and he pressed himself even closer to Peter's body. "He must have been killed instantly…"

Peter felt Thomas tense and he massaged his neck with a very firm grip. Thomas bent into the touch, enjoying it for several moments until he was able to go on. "I woke in the field hospital a few days later. I could barely breathe." He stopped again, feeling the pain reoccur in his lungs. "I still don't know who found me."

Thomas took some steadying breaths, "The doctor said I was very lucky…" His voice trailed off and he turned, supporting himself on his right elbow to look at Peter again, who was studying him very closely, stroking his arm. His brown eyes full of concern and love.

"They ordered me to rest." Thomas just wasn't able to tell everything in one go. It seemed still so fresh and he had never told anybody. He bent and stole another kiss. Peter held his head to kiss him more thorough, more reassuring.

After a few moments, Thomas curled into his former position; he just couldn't look Peter in the eye while speaking about his nightmare.

"So I tried to rest. It wasn't easy with all the horror that was going on around me. Blown off legs and arms…faces…" He started to shake uncontrollably, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the images out. Which of course, didn't work. So he swallowed several times, tried to concentrate on Peter's gentle hand in his curls and on the small of his back and found the strength to speak again. "For some reason, I started to hear our music in my dreams. Django Reinhardt, Benny Goodman."

Thomas blinked away the tears in his eyes, when he stared at Peter again, adding, "All played by Arvid, on his guitar." They kissed again. It was just too much.

"It must have been the medicine they gave me." Thomas leaned into the stroking palm, focusing on Peter's chocolate brown eyes when he continued. "One night I woke, because I was doing our dancing steps in my dream, felt you…felt you take my hand while dancing our crazy 'Shout and Feel It'." Thomas suddenly moved and hid his head on the side of Peter's neck, in his long hair. "I felt you hug me."

Peter's eyes had started to get moist in the beginning of the story, now his tears were running freely down his cheeks. He felt Thomas' sobs against his whole body and he tightened his arms around his lover as hard as he could. He figured Thomas hadn't let go like that since the terrible ambush and his near death wounding.

He didn't dare to say _it's all right_ because it never would be. He knew that from own experience. But they still could try and make it better. He kept stroking the back of Thomas' head while Thomas' fingers curled almost painfully into Peter's hair.

"I heard you say again and again, that I am no murderer…that…that I'm not like th…them." He hiccupped. Thomas didn't want to cry like a girl, but he just couldn't help it. All the pain he had felt over the years, all the guilt and helplessness, it all seemed to break over him in this moment. He suddenly started to murmur like a mantra, "Peter…Peter…Peter." And "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His grip tightening more and more around the very slender figure of his lover.

Peter buried his face into Thomas' long curls, embracing him with equal strength, breathing heavily.

They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity. Holding onto each other and loosing it completely. Peter's whispers of "Thomas," were like caresses to Thomas' battered soul.

"When I was back in battle, I always somehow tried to stay behind and not shoot at all." Thomas finished his statement in a harder voice. "I suddenly was determined to survive and find you again." They stared at each other. Then met halfway for a very deep kiss.

Even though they were both half hard, they didn't feel like having sex this time. The mental pain was just too strong. Thomas broke the kiss to confirm the words Peter had told him so long ago when their ordeal had started, "You were right, I never was a murderer. How could they make me believe I would be?" He hung his head and sat, about to get up. He felt completely exhausted and confused.

"Thomas," Peter sat behind him, their bodies matching exactly in size, his arms sneaking around Thomas' waist to restrain him from getting up. "They were very smart; they tricked people into believing what's right. And those who didn't go along with their propaganda…those got punished…" Peter stopped abruptly.

Thomas turned, trying to look into Peter's eyes again from that awkward angle, "you gonna tell me your story?" Peter nodded, kissing Thomas' shoulder. "But not now, all right?"

"Yes, all right." Thomas let his head fall onto Peter's shoulder, his back pressing into the other's front. His hands curling into Peter's pajama bottoms and holding their thighs together.

He became suddenly aware of how happy he should be. After all, he found his best friend again. Only a few people did get that lucky these days. And on top of that, it turned out for them to be each others love interest.

He felt Peter's lips against the side of his neck, felt him weave their fingers together and Thomas determinedly decided, the war had swallowed enough of their lives. It was time to try and enjoy it again.

A familiar melody was hummed into his ear as though Peter had just read his thoughts. A smile tugged at the corners of Thomas' mouth. He hummed along for a few notes and then started to sing lowly, turning again while singing and meaning it towards Peter, "Bei mir bist du schön…" Thomas' smooth baritone was like honey for Peter's ears.

They stared at each other, singing along, their bodies starting to move with the melody, the Swing getting to them. When they had finished, they just began anew, a tad faster now, until Thomas couldn't sit anymore and jumped up, turning and pulling Peter up with him.

It was as though their feet suddenly remembered the steps from so long ago. Holding hands, they were dancing through the small room, getting faster and faster, singing louder and louder, until Frau Müller called from outside, "Everything all right in there?"

They burst into laughter, catching their breath. And when she carefully opened the door, Peter just swept her into his arms and Thomas got carried away and took her hand and they started to sing again, swirling her around.

She started to laugh too, liking the dance, playing along with them. It felt so good to be happy for a few moments.

When they all couldn't move anymore, she just reached up to both of them, messing up their hair even more, muttering, "That's how I like my boys." and quickly disappeared out of the room.

Her mother's instinct told her that there was something unusual going on between the two. The strange noises that sometimes came from Peter's room at night didn't escape her ears. But she decided to turn a blind eye on it. She was so happy to have her older son back alive.

When the two had shyly asked her if Thomas could move in with them since his parents were both dead, she agreed without hesitation. She'd forgiven him instantly. She already saw him as her third son.

----- to be continued -----


	3. Chapter 3

_One year later_

„Peter! Thomas!" Willi was knocking at the door of their room loudly. He tried to behave like a seventeen year old, but sometimes he just couldn't help it and just be the "little" brother again.

He made it a habit of knocking, since he once run in on them while they lay in bed, naked, kissing wildly. He was so shocked, he couldn't speak for hours. They hadn't noticed him so they were both questioning him over their small dinner why he looked so confused.

He only blushed crimson red and shook his head. Frau Müller, who had been in the same situation once, whispered into Peter's ear, "He must have seen you two, you know…" Peter looked at Thomas, his own face turning red as well and Thomas could only mutter, "Oh."

After an awkwardly silent meal, Willi cleared his throat and finally asked bravely, "I thought only a man and a woman…um…do…," he studied the pattern on his empty plate carefully, "…kiss."

Peter and Thomas smiled at each other, then said, "Well," simultaneously. "The war has changed us," Peter stated. Thomas unceremoniously took Peter's hand, and kissed it. "No, men kissing men is not normal, but you know Willi, I learned one important thing while I was in battle and I hope you won't hate me for it." He was tempted to kiss Peter on the mouth in front of the two, but changed his mind. "I'm in love with your brother," he started and turned to look at Peter while saying, "And we have to treasure what we love in these times…" He trailed off, lost in Peter's eyes and he almost forgot where he was.

Peter just couldn't find any words and he did what Thomas didn't do before. He leaned forward to treasure what he loved and he kissed Thomas deeply right in front of his mother's and brother's eyes.

"It's right, Willi, for us." He confirmed after breaking the kiss.

"I wont tell anybody." Willi nodded his head and he suddenly looked like he was part of a big secret. "We wont, right mama?"

"Of course not." Frau Müller still felt awkward with that open statement of love between the two young men, but she really had no other choice. She liked Thomas a lot and she'd rather have them both beside her, than far away.

She smiled encouragingly.

"Peter, Thomas!" Willi knocked again.

"Come in," Peter answered from the other side of the door. "What's so urgent?"

The two young men sat at the table, which was full of pieces from a very old radio. They were trying to puzzle it together.

"There!" Willi said triumphantly and slapped a handwritten sheet of yellowish looking paper on an empty chair.

"The Great A comes to visit Hamburg." Peter read out loud, frowning. Thomas bent over the table to get a look too. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh God, you two don't get out much anymore do you?" Willi was scratching his forehead thoughtfully.

"Well, there's not much to go to." Thomas sighed somewhat frustrated.

"Oh come on, you are just too lazy. They're working hard at rebuilding the city, and things are getting better again." Willi straddled the chair, arms crossed on the back of it. "And you never heard of the Great A?"

Peter snatched the piece of paper from Thomas and read further. "The famous musician arrives straight from The United States, to play at the premiere show of the newly rebuilt 'Café Bismarck'…" Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, to finish lowly, "Saturday evening at nine."

Thomas didn't look up from the piece of cable he was twirling absentmindedly in his fingers.  
Peter laid his hand on Thomas' arm, not able to say anything at all either.  
Before the sad silence could overwhelm them, Willi jumped up and announced determinedly, "As one of the heads of the Swing Kids organisation of Hamburg, I'm inviting you two officially. And I won't take no for an answer." With that he started to whistle "It Don't Mean a Thing," and was out of the room.

"Head of the Swing Kids organisation?"

"Won't take no for an answer?"

"You've got a determined little brother here, dearest Peter." Thomas tried for his old nonchalance to not give in to the sadness. He moved to swing his leg over Peter's thighs and sat on his lap, the old chair protesting with a cracking sound.

He put their foreheads together, taking Peter's face in both hands, whispering, "You wanna go?"

Peter rubbed his hands over Thomas' back, focusing on his lover's eyes, "I don't know. You?"

"I don't know either."

They kissed very gentle and without any urgency for several moments until the chair gave a really dangerous sound.

"Bed." Thomas jumped up, fell onto the mattress and pulled Peter beside him. They stared wordlessly at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"It will be different." Peter said into the room.

"Yeah." Thomas just couldn't imagine going there again. His memory of it was how he'd wanted to beat Peter into a bloody mess when he was there the last time.

Again, Peter seemed to be able to read his mind. He rolled onto his side, studying Thomas closely. "Forget the last time, think of the times before." He swept his tongue over Thomas' warm lips, teasing, wanting to make him forget. His own memory about that fateful evening was buried deep inside his head somewhere. Everything that was Nazi didn't exist for him anymore.

"You used to be the King of Harlem." He kissed Thomas' chin and added, "My king."

That made Thomas finally chuckle and he wrapped his arms tightly around Peter's back and shoulders. "I have to think about it a bit more." He murmured into Peter's hair.

One part of him wanted to go and feel like set back in time, trying to enjoy their music again. But the other part of him just wanted to hide in a hole and never come out.

They lay in silence for a while. It had gotten completely dark and quiet. No sounds came from outside. It was almost scary.

"I miss our Swing." Peter whispered into the darkness. "I miss dancing." He felt Thomas' deep sigh rather then that he heard it. "Me too."

"So we go?"

"I think we could give it a try."

A few more minutes passed, Peter already thought Thomas had fallen asleep, when he suddenly said, a smile clearly hidden in his voice, "I have nothing to wear."

Peter burst into laughter, grateful that Thomas was able to shift the odd mood. He felt a smile creeping up his face as well, even though they couldn't see each other. "Now you sound like a girl." He grinned and bit Thomas' throat playfully.

"Girl?" Thomas took Peter by surprise and turned them around, muttering, "I'll show you 'girl'." And with that he pressed his erection into Peter's waiting one.

"Oh nice." Peter moved his hips upwards, pressing his hands onto Thomas' ass.

"Clothes." Thomas started feverishly to unbutton Peter's pants and the other way round. They couldn't afford any tell tail stains in their trousers or underwear since the water was rationed as well as the clothing.

As soon as they had everything off, they fell hungrily over each other.

Kissing, biting, rubbing, stroking.

They craved each others touches.

Cool hands on hot, sweaty skin.

Moist lips on tender flesh.

Groans, moans, utterly heartbroken sighs.

They knew where to caress or to grip tight.

They knew where to massage and to rub.

They knew how to satisfy each other completely until they lay totally spent and limp, panting.

They were made for each other.

+++++ To be continued ++++++


	4. Chapter 4

**_Saturday evening, Café Bismarck_**

Willi had left them alone, as soon as they rounded the corner of the street to where the old Café, their favourite dancing club, had been. He knew they needed to be on their own to accept the changes. In all the months they'd been back in the ruins of Hamburg, they never dared to go here.

The biggest part of the city was still destroyed. But here and there one could see new buildings growing from the old stones. It was a big sign of hope.

Earlier in the week, Willi had told them that a generous, nameless, foreign donator had given had given a rather large amount of money to the Swing Kids organization for the purpose of rebuilding this particular club.

It wasn't as big as it had been before, but the red letters above the entrance looked almost the same, even though they weren't electrified.

Peter held his breath, hesitating. He wanted to take Thomas' hand but knew he couldn't.  
This time Thomas was the one who sensed his thoughts. He just laid his arm around his lover's shoulders, as he had done so often when they were only friends. A gesture like that was normal after all.

"You still want to go in?" Thomas asked, sounding unsure himself.

Peter looked at him, thinking that he was absolutely gorgeous in Peter's old vest and scarf, and he murmured determinedly, "Yes." Not allowing the images of their last meeting here come to the surface. Everything was different now.

They held onto each other. It was nothing like seven years ago.

There was no music playing yet. And there were just very few people they knew from before, so it seemed. The majority was Willi's age.

"We are not old." Peter whispered into Thomas' ear, who groaned and replied, "We are not."

Willi already sat at a table and waved them over. The dance house was smaller then before, but somehow, they didn't care.

They both felt very odd, almost uncomfortable.

"I have to go and give a welcoming speech with Marianne." Willi stood. "We'll be back soon."

Thomas felt his heart beat faster and faster. He didn't know if he should run or stay, or hide his face behind his hands. He had the odd feeling that everybody was staring at him. But of course, they weren't. This was the new generation of Swing Kids. They didn't know the people who lived their lives on the dance floor eight years ago. An eternity ago.

He felt a reassuring squeeze of his thigh beneath the table, hidden by the table cloth. Peter smiled at him, but Thomas didn't miss the droplets of sweat on his temple. It sure wasn't from heat.

"_Meine sehr geehrten Damen und Herren _(Ladies and Gentlemen)." Willi cleared his throat. A pretty girl stood beside him. She continued as soon as everybody was silent. "_Es ist uns ein großes Vergnügen und eine Ehre, in diesen schwierigen Zeiten, Sie zur Neueröffnung des bekanntesten Tanzclubs von Hamburg zu begrüßen. _(It is our great honor and pleasure, in these difficult times, to announce the reopening of the most famous dancing club of Hamburg.)" Willi was silenced momentarily as loud cheers came from the audience.

Peter couldn't help but smile. He felt incredibly proud of his little brother.

"_Bevor wir unseren ersten Tanz eröffnen, würden wir gern unserem großzügigen Sponsor, sowie all unseren Arbeitern und Freunden danken, die mithalfen, den Club aus den Ruinen wieder aufzubauen._ (Before we begin our first dance, we'd like to thank our generous donator and all our workers and friends who helped to build the club again out of ruins.)" In the middle of his words, the applauding and cheering had already started again, and Thomas didn't look so worried any more. He leaned back in his chair, applauding too.

While Marianne and Willi were speaking, four people with instruments came in from behind the curtain and sat on the chairs in the middle of the small stage.

Marianne spoke again, her voice loud, clear and cheerful, "_Leider steht uns in diesen Zeiten keine Big Band zur Verfügung (_Of course, in these times, there is not a big band available, but," and she and Willi stepped sideways, to reveal the people sitting behind them. "_aber wir sind überglücklich, dass wir einen der Besten aus den Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika bei uns zu Gast haben. Bitte begrüßen sie mit uns, den großen Mister A und seine Band. (_We are really, really happy that we got some of the best, from the United States of America. The Great Mister A and his band."

The applause was at it's loudest already and many people around Thomas and Peter jumped up excited.

So Thomas and Peter stood too…and that's when their faces froze.

The musicians immediately started to play.

A violin, a trumpet…a bass, and to Thomas and Peter's ears, a very familiar guitar.

"I…I don't believe it." Peter fell back into his chair, completely stunned.

Thomas, again, didn't know if he should stay or run. He felt hot and cold all at the same time. Utter shame was consuming him. He buried his head in his hands.

Peter's arm was around his shoulders instantly.

Thomas kept shaking his head, muttering, "So I didn't kill him…"

Peter had tears in his eyes. He actually wanted to jump up and go onto the stage and hug his friend. But of course he didn't do it. He was glued to his chair. He wondered briefly, if Willi knew who the Great A was all along. He did have a strange glint in his eye after all when he invited them.

Their favourite music got them immediately right down to the last cell of their bodies. They were Swing Kids after all. They sat next to each other and Peter could feel Thomas' leg move to the fast rhythm of a well known Django Reinhardt song that Arvid and his band were playing.

Thomas' fingers were dancing on the table. He had his eyes closed.

Most people around them were already on the dance floor, others just moved to the Swing music where they sat or stood. It really was like old times. As soon as the band started to play, the hot music swirled through the room and everybody was on fire.

And the best thing, compared to seven years ago, was that they weren't in any danger.

Swing Music wasn't forbidden anymore. No, it was encouraged.

Peter could see Arvid from where he sat. He looked very alive for a dead man. Helga was playing the violin and Otto was there with them too, at his old bass. The only one Peter didn't know was the handsome guy with the trumpet.

At the end of the first song, Arvid stood, waving, "_Guten Abend, Hamburg! _(Good evening, Hamburg)." He yelled and was greeted by an echo of hundreds of voices. "_Wir sind überglücklich wieder hier zu sein, wieder hier zu spielen! Dankeschön für die Einladung! _(We're really, really happy to be here again, to play here again! Thanks for the invitation.)" He bowed.

There were several people in the audience, shouting, "Welcome back Herr Hitman!"

Peter saw Arvid smile broadly. But the musician also seemed to look for someone on the dance floor. He let his gaze wander from side to side through the room and then slightly shook his head. Helga pulled at his sleeve and he bent down. She seemed to whisper something into his ear.

A grin appeared on his face and he said again into the microphone, "I've brought a lot of familiar songs along with my own. So here's," and Peter had the feeling Arvid was looking straight at him, "Count Basie," he paused, then added, "For my old friends." And they started to play "Shout and Feel it".

Of course it didn't sound the same way as it had when the big band was playing it, but Arvid's guitar play sounded just the same, though now he could use only two fingers on his left hand.

Peter looked at Thomas, who stared at the stage. His body was already taken over by the rhythm, even while he was still sitting on his chair. He turned towards Peter and looked absolutely lost. Peter saw the battle inside of his lover. The guilt fighting with the part of Thomas who still was a Swing boy and desperately wanted to dance again.

"He hates me," he said around the lump in his dry throat.

"No, don't you see," Peter pleaded. "He's playing this for us. Come on."

"He doesn't even know we're here." Thomas tried again, though not very determined.

"I think he does." Peter stood, bowed slightly and said lowly, reaching out his hand to pull Thomas up, "Come on, you know you can't help it." Thomas shook his head weakly, his body swaying anyway.

Peter bent further down, so it looked like he was whispering something into Thomas ear. But in truth he kissed him first behind it, "I'd like you to dance with me, Swing boy." And Peter just didn't wait any longer; the piece was short after all. He simply pulled Thomas up and steered him towards the dance floor, ignoring his slight resistance.

The people on the dance floor were already dancing in line to the electrifying music. Everybody else stood around them and applauded, all one big crowd of rhythm.

Once on the dance floor, Thomas felt completely changed. The music and the happy people all around him, the singing, cheering and shouting was like medicine to his soul. It pushed all the terrible memories of his last visit at the Café Bismarck towards the back of his mind.

Peter had forgiven him after all.

He locked gazes with Peter, falling into their favourite Swing steps already, asking, "You really wanna do that like the old days?"

"Sure." Peter saw from the corner of his eye, that it would be their turn now, if they wanted to take the chance.

Thomas just had to look up at Arvid, who unexpectedly looked back at him just in this second. Thomas actually wanted to fall into a hole but to his surprise Arvid grinned and nodded slightly, putting in an extra solo, "for Peter and Thomas, the kings of Harlem."

Something inside Thomas snapped into place and he let the wonderful music take over. Like in the old days, whenever they got that bold and danced together, he led Peter into the open space between all the other dancers and they just had a go at whatever steps and turns and twirls they remembered.

Everybody around them was urging them on and they didn't feel old at all anymore.

Music, really, seemed to have a healing ability.

Once they had started, they couldn't stop. Even though they wanted to dance with each other all the time, they didn't have a chance. Suddenly there were several girls they had known before at their sides. Anna and Sabina just didn't let go of Thomas. They were so glad to have their favourite dancer and a dance floor back.

Peter was stunned to see Evey there as well. But after she danced with him once, she almost apologetically introduced him to her husband. Peter made polite conversation, but soon bid his good bye. He needed a break.

He took his seat and ordered a glass of water, silently sipping on it. He thoughtfully kept an eye on Thomas and on Arvid as well, wondering when they'd get the chance to talk.

Peter became slightly worried and wondered how long Thomas could go at this pace with his injured lungs. But Thomas didn't seem to have any trouble at all. He was in his element.

Peter loved watching him move. Every dance step looked so smooth and very skilful. He was already back to his old self. Peter promised himself another dance with his lover. This was just too good. There was just a slight problem. He got hard while watching Thomas dance. His cock pulsing with each of Thomas' movements. He shifted slightly in the chair. That's when the Benny Goodman song was at an end, and Thomas made his way back towards him.

He was totally out of breath, holding his hand to his chest but smiled in a way Peter had only seen once before; when they declared their love for each other.

When Thomas arrived at the table, Peter grinned, looked up and thought his heart would stop because Thomas bent and kissed him right on his lips. Peter gasped and Thomas instantly pulled back, realizing too late where they were. Kissing each other had become so familiar to them inside their flat that he didn't think twice. The music had made him so happy; he wanted to share it with his lover. He quickly sat and looked around. Luckily, no one had noticed.

"May I have another dance with you later, Swing boy?" Thomas was teasing, putting his arm around Peter's shoulder, gulping the rest of Peter's water down.

"Of course…" Peter started, about to say, "as soon as we got rid of my erection," but it deflated on it's own, because just in this moment, Willi came towards them. And along with him the Great A and his band.

He felt Thomas tense in his chair and then he stood. Peter thought he'd run away but he didn't. As soon as they arrived at the table Thomas held his hand out towards Arvid.

Peter held his breath.

Thomas had made the final decision while dancing. He so loved Arvid's music. And he had been so full of regret and guilt about his outburst towards him, about all the mean things he'd said so long ago, that he promised himself he'd apologize as soon as he got the chance. Arvid announcing the song just for them, gave him courage and hope that there may be a chance to be forgiven.

When Arvid took his offered hand, the oddest thing happened. They said, "I'm sorry." At the same time. And they hugged.

Peter had a very heavy lump in his throat and so did the others. He still couldn't believe they were all there. He ended up with Otto and Helga in a group hug, laughing and crying all at the same time. Then he too, embraced Arvid in a bear hug. They just couldn't say a thing.

Willi had ordered drinks for all of them and finally they all sat down, sniffing and looking awkwardly for their handkerchiefs.

There was another band playing in the meanwhile.

Arvid looked at Peter and Thomas in turn, just saying, "Tell." And smiling mischievously.

"No, you tell first." Peter begged. "You were dead after all."

Arvid shook his head, "Not here but…"

Helga just interrupted her husband and took Thomas' and Peter's hands and invited them into their hotel outside of Hamburg. "We really need to talk, I'm so glad to be back here. Even though everything is kaput." She sighed.

"What about later tonight?" Arvid asked and already stood again.

"Of course," Peter and Thomas replied in unison.

"And now," Arvid winked, "I wanna see you dance together again. Any particular songs you both wish us to play?"

"Play some of your own. I'm curious." Thomas did the Swing Kids finger greeting towards Arvid who returned it.

Then they made their way back onto the stage.

Thomas sat stunned.

"See, he doesn't hate you." Peter smiled with relief, standing already, his body tense in anticipation of the new songs.

"He's changed." Thomas took of his jacket thoughtful.

"And so have we."

A very fast intro ripped them from their musings. Thomas just said, "Oh my God." And he gripped Peter's hand and pulled him towards the dance floor as fast as he could.

He already loved the new melody. It was like Benny Godman, Count Basie and Django Reinhardt all in one.

Peter just laughed and twirled Thomas once. Then it was the other way round. Arvid's guitar seemed to be magical along with the other instruments of the small band. Everybody in the hall was dancing and jumping, clapping and yelling loudly. It was like one big party of relief and joy.  
Thomas and Peter just did go with the flow, not realizing that they were holding hands all the time. At one point, Anna and Sabina just danced between them, parting them and demanding in a funny way, that the kings of Harlem just had to pay attention to their princesses as well and not only to each other.  
They laughed and got even wilder, swirling the girls around their arms, their bodies, through their legs.

Just in the end, when the crazy music stopped with the loudest trumpet solo ever, they hugged the girls briefly, but each other twice as long.

The young women elbowed each other meaningfully, then pulling them apart for another joyful Swing.

The third song was yet again "Shout and Feel it" and Peter and Thomas wouldn't let go of each other and the women just danced around them, giggling.

When it was over, Thomas collapsed on a near chair, panting so heavily, he thought his damn lungs would give out on him.

Peter was at his side instantly, asking worriedly, "You all right?"

Thomas nodded, "Need water."

Sabina had already brought him a glass and he emptied it in one go. She crouched down beside him, stroking his thigh.

Peter felt an unbelievable pang of jealousy, although all he wanted to feel was happiness.

Thomas looked up at him, smiling that wicked smile of his, mouthing, 'outside'.

Peter nodded and made his way towards the entrance.

Thomas told Sabina that he had to go to the men's room and slowly stood. She kissed him on the cheek and turned yet again towards the dance floor.

Once outside, he saw Peter leaning against the wall, smoking.

"You've got one of those for me?" Thomas leaned in very close for the question.

"I only got one. Here." Peter gave the cigarette to him, but as soon as he pulled on it, he regretted it. He knew he shouldn't smoke anymore with his defective lungs. "Damn." He muttered.

Peter took it from him and tossed it on the ground.

"Care to take a walk?" Peter just took Thomas' elbow and started to wander of towards the corner of the building.

"You jealous?" Thomas put his arm around Peter's back, squeezing.

Peter made an odd sound and Thomas burst into laughter.

They were around the corner just in that moment and Thomas pressed Peter up against the wall, taking his face in his hands and devouring his mouth without warning, pressing his lower body against Peter's.

Both had a tell tale erection.

"Oh yeah." Peter groaned when Thomas broke the kiss and moved his lips towards his ear, Thomas' hands sneaking beneath his jacket. Peter felt the hot palms through the very thin material of his shirt on his lower back.

He put his hands on Thomas' ass and pressed him as hard as he could against himself, rubbing their groins together. Thomas hissed sharply.

"We can't come in our damn pants." He muttered into Peter's hair and pulled him further down the street, around another corner and into a broken doorway that led into an empty cellar. It was totally dark but they didn't care.

+++++to be continued (And if you want the full NC17 version of this, please send me a PM)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Peter's story

When they got back to the dance hall they looked at each other and grinned. They'd indeed mixed up their vests and ties, luckily not their pants.

Inside, the two bands were now playing together. A wonderful slow piece by Glenn Miller called "Serenade in Blue". Thomas hoped that the women wouldn't spy them coming in, or rather that they'd be on the dance floor already. Peter pulled him to an empty table at the back of the room. "One day we'll dance to 'Serenade in Blue' together, as well," he whispered into his lover's ear, putting his arm on the back of Thomas' chair. Thomas was tempted to rest his head on Peter's shoulder but of course he didn't do it. He just laid his hand on Peter's thigh since no one could see beneath the tablecloth.

They observed the musicians silently for a while; letting the music float through them.

"I wonder who that trumpet player is," Thomas said after another grand trumpet solo.

"Yeah, me too. Looks Spanish or Mexican or something like that."

After the piece was finished, Arvid stood, clearing his throat. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it was a real pleasure for us to play for you." The crowd applauded wildly. "And because of several requests we'll be back next Saturday." That earned him even more applause and cheering. He smiled warmly and bowed. "To finish this evening in kind, here's 'Sing, Sing, Sing' by Luis Prima for you crazy lot." He sat and the joyful theme of the song was tickling everybody's feet instantly.

Peter and Thomas jumped up from their chairs immediately for that last dance. Sabina and Anna were already on the way towards them, unceremoniously taking their hands and urging them on to hurry onto the dance floor.

Again it was like one big party; everybody dancing with everybody. It didn't matter if men danced with men or women with women. The new and the old Swing Kids were just so happy to be able to dance again, to celebrate their love for the Swing music, to be free.

When the song was over, the musicians weren't allowed to leave the stage. They were pushed for yet another song from the cheering crowd and they obliged willingly; playing another very fast one of Arvid's own compositions.

After several encores the dancers finally let the bands off the hook, only with the promise to be back next Saturday precisely at seven.

Peter and Thomas were both smiling broadly when Willi and Marianne approached. Willi hugged his older brother briefly, "I see you both had fun."

"Thanks for the invitation, little brother. We'll be back next Saturday too." He pulled Thomas towards him.

"That _Great A_ of yours has been a real nice surprise." Thomas added, slapping Willi on the shoulder.

"I thought so." Willi was pleased with himself. He'd had a _very_ hard time keeping this particular secret. But it looked like it was worth it. "Arvid would like to meet you at the back entrance. I'll tell Mama that you won't be home soon. Have fun." And with that he and his girlfriend were swallowed by the leaving crowd.

Arvid and Helga were waiting for them. Both smiling.

Thomas' heart was thumping in his throat. He wanted to say so much but couldn't.

Helga must feel the same because she just hugged them both again tightly.

"Come." Arvid opened the door of the car that stood beside them.

"Wow." Peter sounded really stunned. "Yours?"

"Um…yeah," Arvid nodded and sat on the passenger seat. Helga was the driver.

After several awkward minutes with no traffic at all around them, Peter finally broke the silence. "So you're the _Great A_ from the United States. Looks like you're quiet famous overthere?"

"Well, a bit." Arvid turned and grinned wickedly. Something he'd never done before. "Didn't Willi tell you anything?"

"No, he kept us in the dark until we would see ourselves tonight."

Arvid chuckled. "Awesome boy; your brother."

"Since when did he know?"

"Oh we've been in contact since the war is over. He found us via and ad in a newspaper. We wanted to see what's going on over here with our own eyes and announced a tour. He wrote to us. When we saw his name we hoped it would be your brother and we wrote back. " Helga replied.

"Arvid…" Thomas suddenly spoke, he just had to get it out or he'd burst. "I'm…do you forgive me? I was such an idiot back then."

"Thomas." Arvid swallowed and turned in his seat again. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't forgiven you." He looked at Thomas intensely. "Do you forgive me? I've said stupid things as well."

They arrived in just that moment and all got out of the car. Thomas and Arvid met in the middle of the sidewalk and suddenly hugged fiercely. "Yes, of course. I do forgive you. You didn't say anything _that_ terrible."

"You boxing for me; I'm still impressed about that. I know I didn't appreciate it very much at the time. When I thought it over again, it was such a brave thing to do. Thanks."

"Guys, please it's cold. Can't we go upstairs and discuss everything in a more comfortable environment?" Helga's teeth chattered.

The small hotel at the border of the town was one of the few buildings that survived the bombings intact. Everything looked clean inside, and it was warm.

Helga led the way up the stairs with Peter, Thomas and Arvid following slowly.

Peter thought of something while climbing the stairs.

"Quiz time, Arvid. How was your English over there?

Arvid scrunched his face. "Terrible. They didn't understand a word I was saying! Luckily I understood them, so I worked determinedly on my pronunciation, and after a while, we managed pretty good."

They arrived at the door of the band's quarters. Helga opened and a whole flat was revealed to them. It looked very comfortable and bigger then it did from the outside.

Otto and the trumpet player were already there, setting the table with glasses, a bottle of wine, plates and with a big kettle.

Otto came over to greet his old friends properly, embracing Peter for a while, then hugging Thomas, asking if everything was okay with him and Arvid and Thomas nodded.

"Hey guys, I think we forgot something important." Arvid laid his hand onto the trumpet player's shoulder. "I'd like to introduce to you our magician with the trumpet. This is Nestor Castillo."

"Nestor, please meet Peter Mueller and Thomas Berger." The young men shook hands.

"You're a magician with that trumpet of yours indeed." Thomas said with much appreciation in his voice.

"Muchas gracias." The smaller man said shyly. He was very handsome; slender, dark brown eyes, black curls.

"Please take a seat." Helga waved them over towards the table. She opened the lid of the kettle and a wonderful smell reminded Peter and Thomas that they hadn't eaten properly in days. Thomas's stomach was growling loudly and he blushed immediately. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's okay. Please eat as much as you want. We brought more and Nestor here is an excellent cook." Helga filled their plates with, what they learned later, was called Chili. It was an unknown meal for them, but they loved it anyway.

They ate in silence; Peter and Thomas trying not to show how hungry they really were. It was so difficult to get enough food these days.

After the meal Arvid stood, took his glass, and led them over into the living room. "Please get more comfortable."

Peter had a look around, taking in all the exquisite furniture, gasping, "Looks like you've made it, Arvid. You rich now?" There was no jealousy at all in his voice. It was only a statement.

"Well," Arvid replied lowly, "Lets just say we got luckier then we deserved to be." He limped over to the gramophone.

"You're the nameless foreign donator for the Café Bismarck, are you?" The fact just occurred to Thomas, when he let himself fall into the soft cushions of the couch.

Arvid said nothing, but Helga winked at Thomas and nodded proudly.

"I'm so relieved you're alive," Thomas muttered under his breath, pulling Peter down beside him.

"You have to thank Otto and Helga for that," Arvid answered just as low. "But I like to not think back about those terrible days." He put the needle onto the record and a very familiar, slow, but not sad, melody filled the room. He grabbed Helga around the waist and actually started dancing with her. She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. It didn't even look like Arvid wasn't able to dance and he changed the subject. "I thought after all the Swinging we all could use some more relaxing music."

Peter and Thomas leaned against each other. It was the "Serenade in Blue" again. The music was intoxicating and very tempting. But they just couldn't dance together to a slow piece like this that was yearning to show all the love one was feeling.

Then, the odd thing happened. Otto came into the room, walking slowly towards Nestor who stood by the window, and Otto bowed slightly, whispering in English, "May I have this dance, Senor?" And Nestor accepted with a radiant smile, curling his arms around Otto's neck and pulling the taller man's head downwards. They both started to dance in the same way as Arvid and Helga did.

Thomas and Peter stared at each other. Then Peter stood and did the same, bowing and asking Thomas for this dance. Thomas sighed. Either they knew about their relationship from Willi or this was a pure accident, that Otto and Nestor had a relationship as well. There was no doubt about it now, because they were kissing.

"Come here." Peter whispered and pulled Thomas as close as he could. They snuggled into each others arms and held tight, only their legs moving to the beautiful song. After a few moments Thomas just didn't care anymore, knowing he was among friends and he captured Peter's lips with his, his tongue sneaking into Peter's inviting mouth, greeted instantly by Peter's soft tongue. They kissed through the whole song and completely forgot where they were.

In the middle of the next song Peter broke the kiss and Thomas noticed that he was sobbing silently but trying to hide it by burying his nose into Thomas' hair. Peter suddenly started to tremble violently and made a mad dash to what he hoped was the bathroom. Thomas went straight after him, so did Helga.

Peter knelt in front of the toilet and threw up like someone was tearing his guts out. Thomas helplessly kept stroking his back, muttering comforting words. Nothing like that had ever happened before since they were reunited one year back.

Helga got a wet towel and held it against Peter's forehead. He very slowly calmed down, sitting back on his heels, murmuring "I'm so sorry," again and again.

"It's all right, Peter." Helga and Thomas helped him up. She reached for his face, wiped the cold sweat off his forehead and gave him a glass of water to drink. "Better?" she asked after he greedily drank it. Peter nodded wordlessly. Thomas moved him to the sofa. They sat, and Thomas guided Peter's head to rest on his thigh. Peter buried his face in Thomas' hip, breathing heavily in and out.

Helga explained in a whisper to the others, "He's in some kind of shock. I guess he's survived something he can't speak of."

Thomas was shaking. He swallowed back tears, but didn't succeed. Peter was gripping his shirt so hard, he feared it may tear in half. Helga's words made Thomas aware of the fact, that Peter never told him what really happened in the concentration camp. Thomas weaved his fingers gently through Peter's thick hair, trying to calm him down somehow, whispering, "It's going to be all right." And "I love you," into Peter's ear in turn.

The other three men sat clueless, but full of concern. Even Nestor, who didn't know Peter at all.

After what seemed like an eternity, Peter turned on his back, staring at the ceiling, grabbing one of Thomas' hands and begun to speak in a strangely distant voice. "They tried to starve me… They didn't let me sleep for days…" He made a strangled sound. "If…if it hadn't been for your father, Otto, I'd be dead." Peter pulled Thomas' head down and kissed him so hard, it took both their breath away. "Herr Schumler and the secret resistance of the camp smuggled me out when I was already half dead."

Thomas wanted to pull his own hair out. He was the cause of Peter being sent there. Thomas wanted to jump up and run and run and run until he'd pass out. He hated himself so much.

How could that happy evening turn in such a tragedy?

"All the joy and the excitement and the effort of the dancing, and later the too big meal must have triggered his reaction." Helga tried to explain through the scary silence.

Peter slowly sat and Thomas got up instantly but Peter held his wrist, pulling him down again. He only said, "No." holding Thomas to his side. "It was _not_ your fault." And in front of all of them he turned Thomas' face towards him and said in a very exhausted but steady voice, "I'm in love with you, Thomas. Nothing that happened before, and in the war, was your fault. Can we please not speak about Nazi stuff ever again? I want to cut it out of my brain." He kept stroking Thomas' cheek. Thomas nodded, "I promise." He swallowed, took Peter's face in his hands and then again their mouths met.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Arvid's story

After a few silent moments Peter seemed to remember something. He cleared his throat and murmured, looking across the room. "But what about you, Arvid?"

"Yeah, I guess it's my turn now, to get it over with," Arvid said under his breath and let himself fall heavily into an armchair.

"Please tell us." Thomas asked. If he had to endure more of this, it was best to talk about it now and after that try and bury everything as deep as possible in the back of their minds.

Helga stood behind Arvid and twirled his dark locks absentmindedly around her index finger when he started to speak. "I really tried to kill myself," he murmured. "I just didn't see any perspective at all. I felt so scared and trapped." He took Helga's hand and kissed her palm. "I still keep apologizing about that to her." He smiled sadly upwards then looked at Otto, begging him silently to continue.

"Helga and I were really worried after his outburst in the restaurant, so we went to his flat later in the evening, despite the fact that he had told us not to come." Otto spoke slowly so Nestor could follow his words.

"It was so strange." Helga added in a trembling voice, "There was no music playing. No sound at all. He always used to practice when I came upstairs, or at least there was a record playing." Peter and Thomas nodded their agreement to that. It had never been completely silent in Arvid's apartment.

"We...we found him in his bathtub." Otto had a hard time to talk about it. "He'd...he'd cut himself with his favourite record."

Arvid pulled Helga onto his lap, his eyes focused on her skirt. He just couldn't look at anyone in the room. He stroked Helga's knee when she continued, tears running down her cheeks freely. "We must have been just in time. Otto ran for my mother and I... I made a pressure bandage on Arvid's wrist and kept pressing and pressing until his...until..." She couldn't finish her sentence. Arvid rocked her in his arms.

"I can't tell how grateful I am that I had taken several lessons in first aid before that day." She sniffed, kissing her husband deeply.

"I hurriedly told her mother what had happened and she grabbed her nurse bag. We ran like mad down the stairs, through the street and again up the stairs in the other house. Even while running, she explained to me what I had to do to save Arvid; that he needed my blood. We prayed that his body would take it..." Otto stopped and shook his head. Thinking back about it, and how incredibly lucky they had been, rendered him speechless.

Arvid spoke again, "When I woke, I felt incredibly dizzy and didn't know where I was. All I saw was Helga sitting again in a completely white room, holding my hand and sleeping in a chair beside me."

"My mother and Otto's father had managed to get Arvid secretly into a hospital that was still under the reign of the resistance." Helga found her voice back, stood and poured everybody another drink.

"I was so angry at first. I didn't want to live." Arvid reached for his guitar and started to play lowly, as though it would help him to speak about it. "Helga convinced me otherwise. I didn't know she loved me that much." Helga stood behind his chair again. She knew the theme he was playing so well. It was the one he always played to cheer her when she was too homesick to do anything. She took his glasses off and bent his head back, so she could kiss his eyelids, his nose. He smiled and kept playing. He had found his balance back in America and with her love.

"My father had a plan how to get Arvid out of the country together with another man who'd spoken out against the Fuehrer out in the open as well." Otto interjected. "I had to make a fast decision whether to go with them or to stay. Helga needed help. Arvid was still so weak, and I didn't want to join the damn Fuehrer's army, so I decided to go with them. We got onto the last ship that was leaving for the United States." He finished and shook his head, still not believing their luck after all those years.

Thomas and Peter said nothing at first. There was so much that wasn't explained but they didn't dare to ask more questions. They all let Arvid's music calm them until something occurred to Peter. "Is that when they got your father, Otto?"

Otto nodded, "After we all were safe on the ship and it was out of Germany's authority."

Even though Otto's father had survived too, no one spoke for a long while.

Peter lay back again on the couch, using Thomas' thigh as a cushion. Otto and Nestor started to dance slowly again, Helga sat on the floor, leaning against Arvid's good leg.

"When we arrived over there, we didn't say we were Germans." Arvid set the guitar aside and moved with Helga towards the other couch, mirroring Thomas' and Peter's position, laying his head on her thigh.

Suddenly Otto grinned; snuggling up with Nestor in the armchair. "You should have heard him try to use his few English words to explain that he was actually Spanish and Helga and I from France. We prayed there wouldn't be any Spanish or French speaking people around us."

For the first time Nestor started to speak, "I was near them. I sensed there was something wrong with them as soon as they moved into the hotel I was working in. They looked so lost." Nestor's German was good. He just had a heavy accent and spoke very slow. "I knew I shouldn't trust any strangers but I had," he looked at Otto with affection,"... I fell in love with this tall blonde guy at first sight, I guess." Nestor stroked his hair out of his eyes with a nervous gesture.

Thomas grinned. Otto as homosexual as him and Peter, he just couldn't believe it. He thought they were an exception. "Please go on." He encouraged.

"I brought them food." Nestor smiled at the memory of their faces, scrunched together at each foreign meal he served them. They ate it each time, grew to love some of it, and hated other things.

"And he got me a job as a gardener for a wealthy Manhattan family." Otto added, circling his hand over Nestor's back. "In the evenings he helped us practice our English since he grew up bilingual."

"When I wasn't so weak anymore he even got Helga a part time job as an assistant nurse." Arvid continued.

"You see, we all depended on him right from the beginning." Otto said in a loving voice and he kissed the corner of his lover's mouth.

"What about the music?" Peter was curious.

"It was unbelievable there;" Arvid said in a dreamy voice. "Each time we went for a walk we were surrounded by Swing music. Either it was coming from the open windows, or some band was playing it live in the parks."

Arvid paused and Helga remembered, "For the first time he talked about you two back then, Peter and Thomas. He said how much you'd have loved it there." Lost in thought Helga made several tiny plaids into Arvid's longish hair. "We missed you and we were so worried about you..." She trailed of.

"Anyway," Arvid didn't want the sad mood back. "One day we found out that Nestor played the trumpet like a god." Otto muttered a very passionate, "Yeah." And everybody grinned. "He had a performance with his brother in our hotel and we were invited."

"I was completely stunned by his ability to play," Arvid admitted. "He sounded like one of the famous ones." He stopped Helga from weaving more braids into his hair, "That's when I first got the idea for a new band."

Thomas and Peter were now sitting silently like kids being told a fairy tale. They were holding hands, sipping their wine. This part of the story was so much more calming then the first part. "And then?" Thomas urged his friend on.

"We told him about our band back in Germany." Otto explained.

"And my Helga revealed a secret she'd never told anyone." Arvid reached up and caressed her cheek. "She once learned how to play a violin."

"I...I wanted to play with them." Nestor added, leaning his back against Otto's chest.

"So we started to look for cheep instruments."

"It wasn't an easy task, but once we had them, we had a session...boy...your ears would have fallen off." Arvid, and the rest of his band, were all smiling; lost in their memories.

"I can imagine." Thomas was thinking about the evening and how they had the crowd cheering and dancing.

"And then you got famous..." Peter said dreamily.

"Well, of course not instantly. We started to play in parks and local bars, just as the others did."

"And then the ...the..." Arvid jumped up from the sofa because he still couldn't really believe what happened one day. He got over to Thomas and Peter, sat between them, putting his arms around their shoulders. "Count Basie came by accidentally when we played."

"What?" Thomas thought he didn't hear right, knowing how much that must have meant for Arvid, who played Basie's songs as much as Django Reinhardt's.

"Really?" Peter was just as surprised. "I can't believe it."

"We didn't believe it either." Arvid whispered.

"He said, keep playing." Helga crouched in front of the three.

"After two songs he gave Arvid a card and said, meet me there Monday evening."

"Oh my god." Thomas and Peter said simultaneously.

"Yeah, you could say that," Otto murmured from his chair.

"We practiced like crazy for the remaining three days," Nestor remembered; his voice still slightly shaking from excitement.

"And on Monday, I was so sick with nerves, I thought I couldn't play at all," Arvid admitted.

"We got to the place he told us really early, to be able to have another go on our songs." Otto smirked, "And guess what?"

"What?"

"Basie was listening to us the entire time. He was sitting at a table in the corner and we never even knew it. He invited us to play with him and his band for several shows. He said we are good." Arvid shook his head, leaning back. Thomas and Peter turned to look at him totally in awe.

"You really got to play with the great Count Basie?"

"Yeah, believe it or not. For a few weeks."

"Wow." Thomas scratched the back of his head.

Arvid got up again, pulling Helga from the floor, swirling her unexpectedly around and she yelled in surprise. Arvid caught her and kissed her briefly on the mouth. He really felt happy and now he wanted to try and give some of it back to the worn out people over here. He knew what Peter and Thomas had gone through. Willi had written many letters to him.

And Willi and Arvid had a plan.

Arvid was wondering if this was the right moment to ask, but maybe it would bring them other thoughts. Especially since Peter had demanded to never speak about the war again.

"Actually we wanted to ask you two something." Arvid was wandering through the room, playing an unfamiliar low rhythm on his guitar.

Thomas and Peter looked at him somewhat expectantly. Then both combed through their long strands of hair with their fingers, a gesture that made Helga smile. It didn't suit them when they had both cut their hair in HJ fashion. It looked much better this way; more like the boys she got to know what seemed like an eternity ago.

Arvid changed his play to "It Don't Mean a Thing" and said, "We'd like you both as our singers."

"What?" Both Peter and Thomas thought they didn't hear right.

"Yeah well, Nestor can sing pretty good, but he has to play the trumpet. I told Helga once how we used to sing along in school to impress the girls and she suddenly came up with this idea. What do you say?" He smirked.

Peter and Thomas looked at each other totally surprised.

"I mean if you want to." Arvid considered his words again and added, "Of course only a few songs. You don't have to be on stage all evening, you can still dance." He winked at them just knowing how much they loved to dance.

"Can we think about it?" Thomas asked shyly and laughed at himself suddenly because his voice sounded so thin.

"Of course," Arvid smiled.

Peter only shook his head.

----to be continued----


	7. Chapter 7

**_Three days later_**

They locked the door this time. Their room was bathed in gold from the afternoon sun.

"I want to see all of you," Thomas whispered into Peter's ear when they came back from practicing with Arvid and his band.

"Same here." Peter's voice sounded hoarse. He wasn't sure whether from all the singing or from the excitement of what they were about to do.

No one was at home; they'd have the apartment to themselves the whole afternoon and evening.

They planned on making love without anybody interrupting them, without having to be quiet.

In the background, on the gramophone Arvid had given them, came the sound of a long easy melody form one of their favourite Swing records.

They lay on their sides on the bed, facing each other. Thomas traced a line over Peter's lips with his forefinger. Peter had to close his eyes because the gentle touch gave him goose flesh and got right down to his crotch. He smiled and sighed contently.

"You're beautiful," Thomas whispered and touched his lips to Peter's in a chaste like kiss. Peter snapped his eyes open, staring in the amber ones that were right above his. "Beautiful?" He asked doubtfully, caressing Thomas' full lips with his thumb. "You're beautiful, Thomas." They kissed and stroked each other tenderly for several minutes. They were in no hurry this time and everything was warm and comfortable.

Thomas however, couldn't shake the image of his lover in deep discomfort and pain the other night, when he collapsed in Arvid's hotel room. "I'm so sorry." He repeated the words he'd said so often yet again.

Peter shook his head, knowing what Thomas was thinking and laid his index finger across Thomas' lips, "Shhhh, don't talk about it. You promised."

Thomas nodded and rolled Peter onto his back, bending over him, feeling Peter's hands in his hair, on his shoulder blades. "I want to make you feel so good," Thomas licked the corner of Peter's mouth playfully. "You already do, Swing boy." Peter replied, moving his head upwards and mirroring Thomas' half kiss.

Peter thought for a moment; just moving his hands slowly over Thomas' smooth skin. They stared into each others eyes, not breaking the contact. Peter felt Thomas' erection growing against his thigh, appreciating his own tingling balls.

This was going to be extraordinary overwhelming.

"You told me you survived by thinking of me." Peter barely got the words out. "I survived by imagining you dance," he swallowed, "and smile at me."

"God, you don't know how much I love you." Thomas started to move his lips and tongue across Peter's warm flesh. First over his chin, ever so slowly down his throat, his Adam's apple, murmuring, "Don't move." ...

**_Two weeks later_**

"So you're really going to sing tonight?" Willi's voice was full of youthful excitement.

They all were on the way to the Cafe Bismarck. They had even invited their mother, who walked between Thomas and Peter, her hands slung in the crocks of their arms left and right.

"Well, we'll try," Thomas said somewhat shyly. He had a heavy lump in his throat and didn't know if he was able to bring even one note out.

"You'll manage!" Frau Mueller said encouragingly. "I like it most when you sing 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen' and the 'Serenade in Blue'." She looked dreamily ahead, lost in memories.

They walked in silence for a while. Willi hummed another famous song.

When they were about to round the corner to the Caf , Frau Mueller stopped and turned Thomas and Peter, so she was able to look at them. "Please, boys, you must promise me something." She swallowed nervously. Both young men fixed their eyes on her curiously. "Well...please don't, you know..." She just couldn't say it and cast her eyes to the sidewalk.

Peter and Thomas looked at each other meaningfully, both realizing what she wanted from them. Peter chuckled and pecked her on the cheek, "No fear Mama, we won't kiss each other on stage. Promise."

The reason why Frau Mueller made this particular request was that both always ended up kissing passionately in her kitchen, when they practiced the songs she mentioned before. They sang it with so much emotion; it was really hard to hold back tears.

"Promise." Thomas held his hand up as though to make a vow.

"Good," Frau Mueller said with relief, and together they walked towards a new joyful experience.

Ever so slowly the demons of the war got buried. ----TBC----- The chapter is so short because I have taken out the graphic stuff. If you are an adult and want to read the full version, please go here: .


	8. Epilogue

"That was incredible," Arvid grinned and let himself fall into a chair near the stage. All the public was gone and it was only him, his band, his two singer, Willi and Frau Mueller. They sat around the biggest table available, sipping water.

Helga beamed with pride.

Otto leaned back casually and rested his arm on the back of Nestor's chair. Nestor was cleaning his trumpet assiduously; smiling and still humming.

"I still can't believe we did that," Peter chuckled into Thomas' ear, his hand resting lightly on his lover's thigh beneath the thin table cloth. Thomas just shook his head, still flushed and his voice gone. Peter grabbed Thomas' hand briefly and winked at him; beaming as much as Helga.

He'd never expected he'd like it so much to sing on stage, even though he still was very embarrassed about the whole thing. But the applause they got, and the shouts for encore were very encouraging. Beside that, he had felt very secure among his friends. He had never thought he'd feel like that again.

A sound brought him out of his musings.

Arvid conjured a bottle of wine and clicked his spoon against it, "A toast to my musicians." He smiled affectionately, handing the bottle to Helga who poured everyone a glass.

The guitarist stood, lifted his drink and simply said, "Thank you," in a very grateful voice. Then he nodded to Willi.

The youngest man on the table looked a bit nervous when all glances turned to him expectantly. He cleared his throat, rising from his seat as well and started, "We...we have a plan." He swallowed again, looking at his brother for reassurance. Peter only raised one eyebrow, clueless what was about to come, grabbing Thomas' hand again instinctively.

"Mother and I may run the Caf in the future..." Frau Mueller gasped, taken by surprise. Arvid smiled warmly and nodded, "If you'd like to give that a thought, Frau Mueller?"

He then sat, because he was too excited about his next question.

"Peter and Thomas, I..." he looked at Helga. "We'd like to invite you to America, so you can see how the entertainment business works there." He somehow blurred the words out, completely loosing his usual calm behaviour. He surely wasn't used to actions like this.

"We may move back with you, once you've had a good look." Helga added fast, "Because I am still homesick and want to help to rebuild my hometown." She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief.

Peter and Thomas looked completely speechless at each other.

"Arvid and I thought," Willi had found his voice again and it was now way stronger then before, "We'd make this our club. You three and I being the managers and Mama running the staff. The band will play for free for all people who feel like Swinging again. Swing is alive and well. The people love it. We proved that by reopening the caf . We can bring it back again - as big as it was before the war. What do you say?"

"I..."

"That's..."

Thomas and Peter suddenly started to talk at once, then laughing. "Arvid?" Thomas managed the single word question under his breath, still looking like he had just dreamed all of this.

"Well, I thought it was a good idea," Arvid swallowed," fulfilling some of our old dreams." He added very lowly.

Peter unceremoniously stood, walked over to his friend and hugged him. "Thank you." He muttered, "I think I can speak for Thomas too when I accept your kind invitation."

Thomas hesitantly embraced Arvid as well and murmured with suppressed emotion, "Yes you can. Thank you so much."

F I N 


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